


The Elements of Harry Hart

by AgentStannerShipper



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Derogatory Language, Dirty Talk, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Size Kink, harry hart is a repressed shit, harry hart is kind of a size queen, merlin is distressed and pining, phone sex (kind of), young harry and merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 05:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12204789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Merlin frowns, “Of course I like you.” Against his better judgement, of course, but he does. He can’t seem to help it.Or; four times Harry and Merlin have sex, and one time they talk about it.





	1. Like Moth to Flame

**Author's Note:**

> This spawned from me watching Kingsman and When Did You Last See Your Father too close together. Believe it or not, it was actually an exercise in style, an attempt to shift my language with each chapter to reflect the element it represents (not that you guys care, because let's be real, you're here for the smut). I started it before the second movie, and I finished it out of pure anger and spite.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin knows that if he starts this with Harry, he's going to get burned (aka, fire).

The party roars uncomfortably loudly in Merlin’s ears as he retreats from the common room in favour of the quiet seclusion of the balcony overlooking the gardens. The winter air nips at his nose and ears, but Merlin shoves his hands in his pockets and ignores it, watching his breath come out in puffs of white mist. Even freezing out here is better than dealing with the handful of agents and a good chunk of the tech and handling departments currently celebrating the New Year by getting drunk and dancing to shit karaoke.

There’s a subtle cough somewhere to his right, more of a suppressed hiccup, and Merlin turns to see an unexpected hunched figure on the bench, head turned resolutely away from the tech wizard. Still, it doesn’t take a genius, which Merlin is, to recognize the mop of curly hair that belongs to Harry Hart.

“Agent Galahad,” Merlin says softly. “I didn’t realize you were back.”

“Got in a few hours ago,” Harry responds. There’s a thickness to his voice that Merlin’s not familiar with. He hasn’t known Harry long; Merlin’s been groomed for his position for years, but Harry joined their ranks as Galahad less than six months ago. Merlin’s predecessor had trained that set of candidates before turning the job over to him, and he’s only handled one mission with Harry, so they haven’t spoken much.

“I would have thought you’d be in there, celebrating with everyone.” Merlin might not know Harry personally, but the young man has a bit of a reputation, and given what a flirt he is Merlin can’t imagine why he’s hanging around outside on the balcony instead of inside chatting up some of the pretty girls from the tech department.

Harry shrugs, a tiny rise and fall of his shoulders, which are draped in a thick black coat that Merlin’s never seen on him before. It suits him, accenting the broadness of his frame, but Merlin doesn’t dwell on that thought for too long. “Didn’t feel much like joining in tonight,” Harry says.

Merlin hesitates, and then strolls over and sits down next to Harry. The agent budges up and makes room for him on the bench, which is a good sign. Feelings aren’t Merlin’s forte, but he gets the sense that something’s not quite right with Harry tonight, and maybe it’s the crush he’s been harbouring from afar, but he wants to try. “Everything alright?”

Harry laughs. It’s a sharp sound, slicing through the air more keenly than the blade Merlin watched him impale a man’s eye with in Morocco. “Everything is most definitely _not_ fucking alright.” He glances at Merlin, looks at him for the first time. Up close, Merlin can see the little flecks of colour in his brown eyes. “Do you have a light?”

Merlin realizes Harry’s got a cigarette in his gloved hands. He shakes his head, “Sorry. I don’t smoke.”

“Pity.” Harry rummages in his coat pockets, but comes up empty handed. “Bloody perfect.” He throws the unlit cigarette onto the ground, stomps on it for emphasis.

“Arthur will have your head if he catches you doing that.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not going to tell him then, isn’t it?” There’s the tiniest quirk to Harry’s lips before it disappears. He drops his head into his hands, ruffles through his fluffy curls, and whispers emphatically, “Fuck.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to say, so he stays silent. It’s fine, though, because after a few beats of silence, Harry says, “My dad died today.”

Merlin blinks. “I’m sorry,” he offers.

“Don’t be,” Harry tells him. He stares out across the gardens, but from the glazed look in his eye, Merlin’s pretty sure he’s not really seeing them. “He was a fucking prick.”

“Oh.”

“I hated him,” Harry says. “We haven’t even spoken since I got this job.”

Merlin is not a therapist and he is _really_ not good with feelings. So he doesn’t say anything and lets Harry do all the talking.

“Our last conversation was mostly me shouting at him over the phone. He said I wasn’t a real man, that real men didn’t...” Harry’s gloved hand curls into a fist on the bench, and there’s fiery defiance in his voice when he bites out, “He’s a fucking prick, and the world is better off without him in it.”

“Maybe,” Merlin offers.

Harry looks at him. “Have you ever lost anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hate them?”

“Yes.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes.”

Harry laughs, and this one is warmer and soft around the edges like his coat where’s it’s brushing against Merlin’s arm. “Verbose, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to leave the talking for my job.”

“You’re Merlin, right? Our new wizard. Head of handling and R&D.”

“Aye.”

Harry pulls something out of the inside pocket of his coat. When he unscrews the top, Merlin sees that it’s a flask. Harry takes a long swig, and then offers it out to Merlin. Merlin takes it and does the same. The alcohol burns going down, warming him from the inside out. He hands it back to Harry, who takes another gulp before screwing the cap back on and stowing it safely in his pocket.

“It doesn’t seem right,” Harry says. “That someone can make you so miserable in life, and yet you still mourn their death. It’s pretty fucked up.”

“It’s life,” Merlin says.

Inside, the din dies down and then rises up again, louder than before. “One minute until midnight,” Harry says softly.

“You sure you don’t want to be inside?” Merlin asks. “Dotty, one of the girls in the tech department, she’s been raving about your eyes. And your arse. She’d probably be thrilled to ring in the New Year with you.”

Harry looks at Merlin like he’s trying to see into his soul, and Merlin uses every ounce of his interrogation training not to shift under his burning gaze. “I don’t think I want to ‘ring in the New Year’ with Dotty from the tech department,” he says, and Merlin’s fairly sure it’s not his imagination that Harry’s leaning in closer.

The countdown starts, but Merlin can’t look away. Harry’s lips crook up into that little smile again. “In fact,” he murmurs, “I think I’d much rather be right here.”

Merlin barely hears the last few shouted seconds because he’s too distracted by Harry dragging him in for a kiss that’s all heat. His tongue swipes past Merlin’s lips, open in a gasp of surprise, and he tastes like alcohol and smells like stale cigarettes and when Merlin can think enough to do anything he grabs Harry by the lapels of his coat and hauls him in, keeping him close and devouring him.

The need for air forces them apart, and Merlin gasps out as it pierces his lungs in icicle stabs. “I didn’t realize…”

“What?” Harry asks. “That I’d much prefer you to Dotty from the tech department?”

“Fuck Dotty,” Merlin growls, and yanks Harry in for another kiss.

The agent laughs against his lips, “I’d really rather not. You, on the other hand…”

They move as one, caught on the same idea. They stumble away from the party, just barely able to keep their hands off each other as they pass through the throng of people, only for Harry to shove Merlin up against the nearest wall once they’re around the corner. Merlin manages to get his hands under Harry’s coat, his cold fingers untucking the crisp button-down and finding blazing hot skin beneath. Harry reciprocates by sucking a mark into Merlin’s neck that he’s going to need a scarf to hide tomorrow.

It takes a few false starts to find a room, mostly because Harry doesn’t want to let Merlin up, but eventually he shoves the wizard through a door and locks it behind him, and Merlin thanks whatever higher power might be smiling down on them, because it’s the bunk room for the trainees and that means beds.

Harry pushes him backwards until Merlin falls back on the nearest one, and Harry climbs into his lap with no fuss, stretching out over Merlin’s body and grinding his hips down. Even through all their layers of clothing, Merlin can feel Harry’s erection pressing into him. He’s hard as a rock, and Merlin’s not far behind, his trousers already uncomfortably tight as his cock thickens with the friction. He flips them over, and Harry makes a sound of approval, arching up against him and wrapping his arms around Merlin’s neck to pull him down for another heated kiss.

“Harry,” Merlin whispers against his lips, and Harry groans.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he complains, and sets about to fixing it, tugging Merlin’s jumper up over his head and then doing the same with the white shirt under it. Merlin growls, because it means he has to stop kissing Harry, but the man under him laughs and grinds his hips teasingly against Merlin’s. He wraps his legs around Merlin’s waist, using a move Merlin remembers from his training to flip them back and pin Merlin to the bed. His lips trail down Merlin’s bare chest as he shimmies backwards, leaving a series of scorch marks in their wake, and all Merlin can do is gasp and whisper Harry’s name like a prayer.

Harry gets to Merlin’s trousers and grins up at him. Then, like the show-off he is, he gets his teeth around the zipper and lowers it down. Merlin groans, and Harry tugs his trousers to his knees, wrapping his lips around the head of Merlin’s cock through his pants, breathing wet heat down his fabric-covered length.

Impatient, Harry pops off and yanks Merlin’s pants down too, shoving them and his trousers off, and returns his attention to Merlin’s cock. He has a hand on either one of Merlin’s thighs, perched above him and eyeing him like he’s sizing up an enemy.

Merlin narrows his eyes at Harry and says self-consciously, “What?”

Harry licks his lips, “I suppose I should have guessed that the head of the tech department would have such...large equipment.” It’s a terrible joke, but Merlin’s groan isn’t one of annoyance because Harry follows it up by diving down and swallowing half his cock in one go, enveloping Merlin in delicious warmth. Merlin can’t help himself; he reaches down and buries a hand in that tempting nest of curls, pushing Harry’s head down. The other man goes willingly, more of Merlin’s cock disappearing into his mouth. He gets about three-quarters of the way down before he gags, and Merlin comes to his senses and releases him, but Harry only surfaces for a moment before he goes back down, grabbing Merlin’s hand and putting it back on his head, glaring up at him in a clear challenge. Merlin’s grip tightens in his hair.

Merlin’s heard the stories. Harry Hart is a menace; he likes to push boundaries. Merlin just hadn’t realized he’d be that way in bed too. Merlin keeps his hips as still as he can, but he uses his hand in Harry’s hair to guide him on his cock, fucking his mouth, pressing more and more in until Harry’s nose hits his pubic bone and he fucking groans, the vibrations running through Merlin’s entire length. Harry swallows around him, and Merlin’s head hits the pillow, his grip even tighter in Harry’s hair. The fire that’s been building inside him reaches a peak-

-only to fizzle as Harry shoves away, fighting against his hold. His hand is suddenly where his mouth was, wrapped so tight around the base of Merlin’s cock that it hurts, forcing him away from orgasm. Harry’s eyes are wild, his voice almost a snarl when he says, “Don’t you dare come.”

Merlin gapes at him, but Harry ignores him and rears up, throwing his coat halfway across the room in his haste and going to work on his shirt buttons. Merlin suddenly understands, and he sits up, helping Harry undress. As Merlin gets his shirt off, Harry goes to work on his trousers, and together they get him undressed in record time. Merlin nips down his neck, soothing the bites with his tongue, and Harry groans and grinds down in his lap. Merlin gets a hand around his hip and hitches him forward, crushing them together. They’re both leaking, and it makes each thrust slick as their cocks slide against each other.

“Shit,” Harry whispers, and pulls away, glancing at his coat, “We need-”

Merlin tips Harry gently back down onto the bed and gets up. He roots through the pockets of Harry’s coat until he comes up with what he needs. He turns back to the bed, holding up the packets of lube and raising an eyebrow, “Really? Were you expecting to get fucked tonight?”

“That’s rather presumptuous of you,” Harry says. “Why do you assume I’m the one who’s going to get fucked?” But he’s grinning, stretched out on the bed with one hand behind his head and the other wrapped around his cock, flushed red and dripping precum. He spreads his legs in a clear invitation, and Merlin crawls between them, dropping the packets on the bed in favour of sliding his hand up Harry’s leg, wrapping it around his waist.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he whispers against Harry’s lips, teasing them with feather light kisses even as Harry arches up and begs for more. “Christ, the things I want to do to you.”

“Then hurry up and do them,” Harry growls. He bites down on Merlin’s earlobe, hard.

“For someone with a tardiness problem, you’re awfully impatient,” Merlin informs him playfully, but he reaches for the lube and slicks up his fingers.

“If I don’t have something inside me in the next few seconds, you’ll see exactly how impatient I can-” The rest of Harry’s sentence is cut off by a long moan as Merlin slides a finger inside him up to the second knuckle.

It goes in more easily than he expected, and Merlin groans at the tight heat, biting his lip and fighting to ignore the way his erection throbs at the thought of being wrapped in such velvety warmth. “Fuck, Harry,” he whispers, and withdraws, only to press two in before Harry can so much as whimper at the loss.

“That’s - ah - the idea,” Harry gasps. “Shit, what’s your name? I’ll feel fucking ridiculous calling you Merlin with your fingers up my arse.”

“Ian.”

“Fuck, Ian, if you don’t fuck me now I’m going to have to do something drastic.”

Merlin chuckles, and gives Harry a third finger, “A little patience, please.”

“Fuck patience,” Harry grumbles. He makes a move to flip them, but Merlin’s taken all the same courses as Harry and then some, and it’s easy to abort the move and pin him to the bed without even removing his fingers. He spreads them a bit, and Harry cries out, “Oh, fuck. Ian, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Merlin withdraws his fingers and slicks his cock, then lines himself up with Harry’s opening.

Crassness aside, Merlin really is on the larger side, and it takes a little effort to get the head in. Harry presses his face into Merlin’s neck, his fingers tight where they’re wrapped around Merlin’s shoulders, and he breathes out a gasped “Oh!” into Merlin’s skin when he manages to push past Harry's rim.

Merlin pauses, “You alright?”

“I’m fucking wonderful, or I will be as soon as your fucking cock is inside me,” Harry bites out, far too cocky for someone who is currently trembling against Merlin.

Merlin shakes his head, unable to suppress his smile, and eases in a little farther. Harry huffs, his legs wrapping around Merlin’s waist, and he digs his heels in. The next few inches go faster with his encouragement, and when Merlin bottoms out he stills, his arms shaking with the effort to hold himself up, breathing in the scent of Harry’s sweat-slicked skin. Harry’s like a vise around him, tight and hot and better than he could have dreamed.

Under him, Harry arches in an effort to get Merlin to move, but he grips Harry’s hip and stops him. “I need a minute,” he whispers. By some miracle, Harry settles, stroking his fingers gently down Merlin’s back in a surprisingly soothing gesture.

Once he’s sure he’s not going to come the moment he starts moving, Merlin draws out an inch or so and presses back in, a slow thrust that has Harry sighing. His fingers dig into Merlin’s back, his nails raking red lines down the stretch of pale skin, and he presses back against Merlin’s cock. “Is that the best you’ve got?” he challenges.

Merlin takes the bait and shoves in harder next time, a sharp snap of his hips that makes Harry cry out, the sound followed by a “fuck yes, just like that.” Merlin obliges, his thrusts getting faster, harder, longer as Harry shoves back against him and begs for more.

His mouth is filthy. “You’re so fucking big,” he hisses, his head tipped back against the pillow, bearing the long line of his neck for Merlin to suck bruises into. “Feel fucking huge inside me. How does it feel?”

“Tight,” Merlin breathes.

“I’ll bet,” Harry’s laugh is huffed, and it’s more groan than anything else. “Shit, you feel so good. You love this, don’t you? Me, on my back and begging for your cock in my tight arse? Spreading my legs for you like a whore and loving every minute of it.”

“Jesus Christ, Harry,” Merlin hisses, and his next thrust is rougher. He’s close, chasing his climax, and Harry seems to know it too.

“Come on, Ian, fucking use me like the whore I am. You’re so close, aren’t you? You need to come so badly it hurts. Fuck me harder, Ian, you know you want to. Come on.”

Merlin’s breathing like he’s running a marathon. Harry’s skin is slippery under his fingers, and the cold outside seems a million miles away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he has the thought to wrap his fingers around Harry’s cock. He’s far from graceful, his hand completely out of sync with his hips, but Harry doesn’t seem to care because after only a few strokes he cries out, his back arching up off the bed, spilling over Merlin’s fingers. His arse clenches around Merlin, who groans, and it’s enough to push him over the edge, burying himself deep inside Harry and coming with the other man’s name on his lips.

It takes what little thought he has left not to collapse on top of Harry, carefully pulling out and dropping onto his back next to the other man, panting hard and staring at the ceiling. Eventually his brain comes back online, and it hits him that he’s just had sex with Harry Hart.

When he looks over, Harry doesn’t look quite as concerned as Merlin feels. “So what’s the verdict?” he asks casually, like Merlin didn’t have his cock up his arse mere minutes ago.

“What?”

Harry turns on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “You said Dotty from the tech department has been raving about my eyes. And my arse. You got quite the up-close experience with both tonight. Any thoughts?”

Merlin rolls his eyes, but he grudgingly admits, “Very nice, on both counts.”

“Glad to hear the reviews are good.” Harry sits up, leaning back against the headboard.

Merlin sits up too, settling closer to the foot of the bed and staring across the space at Harry. The other’s man’s curls are even more dishevelled than usual as he casually tugs open the drawer on the bedside table and pokes through it, letting out a triumphant cry when he comes up with a lighter. He fetches the package of cigarette from his coat and comes to rest on the bed again, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag. It’s only then that he seems to notice Merlin again, and he offers the cigarette out, “Want to try it?”

“I said that I didn’t smoke, not that I never had,” Merlin tells him, but he takes the cigarette anyway. He hasn’t had one since he was a teenager. He takes a pull from it and hands it back to Harry. “So.”

“So.”

“We had sex.”

“We did,” Harry raises his eyebrows. “You’re not going to make a big deal out of it, are you?”

Merlin is well-trained enough not to let his surprise show on his face. “No,” he says, even though that’s not the answer he really wants to give. “Just...what was that about?”

“What, the sex?”

Merlin nods.

Harry shrugs, “I was lonely and god knows Dotty from the tech department wasn’t going to do it for me.”

“Shut up about Dotty,” Merlin hisses in frustration. Harry’s casually tilted head only infuriates him more, “Your dad just died.” It’s started to occur to him that maybe having sex with a bitter, sort-of grieving man who is in a weird grey area of kind of outranking him maybe wasn’t Merlin’s brightest idea. He’s not sure he can still call himself a genius after that one.

“He did,” Harry agrees, taking another drag on the cigarette, “and he was a homophobic bastard who told me I was going to burn in Hell and that-”

“Real men don’t like men?”

“Don’t like cock is how he phrased it, but yes.”

“So, this was, what, you telling him to fuck off?” Merlin wants to be angry, but really, he only has himself to blame. Harry Hart is a notorious flirt, but everyone he knows says the man is not relationship material. Merlin doesn’t do feelings. He never has. So why the hell does it feel like someone’s taken a flamethrower and turned his heart to charcoal?

“That’s a good analysis, yes,” Harry says. He doesn’t even bother trying to find something to use as an ashtray, just puts out the cigarette right on the bedside table and looks back at Merlin. “Were you really expecting anything else?”

“No,” Merlin says. He stands up, throwing on his clothing as quickly as he can and resolutely avoids looking at Harry. The embers of the cigarette are still glowing red when he leaves the room. He can hear the party down the hall, still in full swing, but he ignores it, going to long way around to get out of the complex.

When he steps out into the freezing night, he feels like shouting in frustration. But all he does is shove his hands in his pockets and stride in the direction of home, his breath puffing up around his head in little wisps of white heat.


	2. Swept Up by the Current

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to resist Harry is like trying to resist the tide (aka, water).

It’s rare that Merlin goes out drinking, but after the week he’s had, he’s pretty sure he’s earned it. First the spectacularly shitty decision that was Harry Hart on New Year’s, then dual handling Percival’s and Tristian’s missions because both managed to fuck up spectacularly at almost the exact same moment half a world away from each other and no one else was around to deal with it, and ending with getting chewed out by Arthur for not having the prototype of the new glasses ready. He’s been busy, and technology is only so advanced. They’re asking him to put audio _and_ visual recording devices in the frames, and that technology just doesn’t exist yet. He’s working on it, but he’s also been distracted, sketching out some ideas for a disguised hand grenade that he can cheerfully imagine leaving subtly in Arthur’s office. The case looks an awful lot like a lighter, and Merlin doesn’t want to think too hard about why that image has been stuck in his head lately.

The point is, Merlin is drowning in work and he needs a break. Even if it’s just going out to the pub for the night and getting completely shit-faced.

It’s not his usual pub, not that he really has one to begin with. It’s a bit noisier than he usually likes it, not quite a club but veering dangerously in that direction, chock-full of people looking for the same escape he’s trying to find. The lights are dim, enough that he has to squint a bit to see even with his glasses on. At least the beer is good and the music isn’t ear-splittingly loud.

He catches a glimpse of a familiar face through the crowd, reflected back at him in the mirror over the bar, although the skinny jeans and low V-neck are definitely attire Merlin’s not familiar with on this particular body. Merlin curses under his breath and slumps down in his seat, hoping the other man doesn’t notice he’s here, because that would just be the perfect ending to the worst week ever.

No such luck. Harry Hart’s presence crashes over him like a tidal wave as he saunters over to the table, some neon-orange concoction with an actual mini-umbrella in it held casually in his hand. He cocks his hip, leaning against the table, “Well hello, gorgeous.”

“Fuck off,” Merlin says, and doesn’t even feel bad about it.

Harry slides into the seat across from him, “That’s rude. I was being friendly.”

Merlin rolls his eyes and gulps down a larger swig of his beer than he probably should have. He keeps himself from coughing, but only just.

Harry laughs, “Having trouble with your drink?”

Merlin glares at him, “It’s a sight better than whatever that fruity shit you’ve got is.”

“Sex on the Beach,” Harry purrs. “I highly recommend it.” He takes a sip, and studies Merlin over the edge of the glass, “The drink is good too.”

Merlin cuts off the thought of shoving Harry down in the sand and taking him hard before it can get too far. Instead he says, “You always this chatty with strangers in bars?”

“You’re hardly a stranger,” Harry scoffs, which is ridiculous because he doesn’t actually know shit about Merlin. Then his eyes glitter, and he leans back, like he’s contemplating, “Unless…” He offers out his hand, “Harry Hart.”

Merlin stares at him. “What the fuck?”

“It’s polite to introduce yourself to someone you just met,” Harry says.

Merlin knows he’s absolutely fucked up, because even after hours of berating himself for sleeping with Harry the first time, there’s something about the man’s eyes that drag him in like a riptide. He shakes Harry’s hand, “Ian Grey.”

Harry’s grip tightens, lingers a moment too long. His lips curl up into a dangerous smile, “Pleasure to meet you, Ian.” He takes the umbrella out of his drink, running his tongue along it to catch the drops before they crash to the table, and Merlin has to put a hand in his lap as his body remembers exactly what it feels like to have that tongue on him instead.

To distract himself and save his dignity he asks, “You pick up strangers in bars often?”

“Only gorgeous ones who look like they could pin me to a wall.” It’s said so fucking casually that Merlin grits his teeth in frustration. Harry slouches a bit in his seat, “And I get the sense that you can do just that.”

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” Merlin says.

Harry smirks, and suddenly Merlin understands the slouch, because Harry’s foot, slipped out of his shoe, slides up his leg and presses firmly against Merlin’s crotch. He hisses in a breath, spreading his legs and rocking minutely into the touch as his cock goes from half-hard to rock-solid in seconds.  “I don’t ask,” Harry says. “I take what I want. And what I want right now is that absolutely beautiful package you’re hiding under those trousers, and I want it inside me five minutes ago.”

The voice of reason in Merlin’s mind is screaming at him, but it seems tiny and faraway when faced with what Harry’s offering. Harry grinds his foot against Merlin’s cock one more time and then stands up, leaving his drink on the table. He throws a flirty look over his shoulder that should be ridiculous but is instead ridiculously hot and saunters off in the direction of the bathroom. Merlin knows he’s going to hate himself tomorrow for this, but he stands up and follows the siren call, slinking around the edge of the crowd and hoping everyone else is too busy to notice the tent in his trousers.

When he pushes open the bathroom door, Harry’s sitting on the sink, his legs spread and his skinny jeans unbuttoned. They look painted on, and Merlin’s cock throbs in sympathy because the bulge under them cannot be comfortable. Harry doesn’t seem to mind, though, palming himself through the fabric, his head tipped back against the mirror. He licks his lips and grins at Merlin, “Well?”

Merlin lurches forward and crashes between Harry’s legs, getting a hand on his hip and hauling him close. Harry wraps his legs around Merlin’s waist and his arms around Merlin’s shoulders, his hips pressed tightly to Merlin’s and rolling against him. The friction is amazing, but it’s not enough, and Merlin growls and bites down on the collarbone peeking out from under the tight t-shirt. Harry gasps and arches, and the motion presses him even closer. Merlin groans.

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, and somehow manages to get a hand between them, undoing the button on Merlin’s trousers. “Fucking need you now.”

Merlin lifts him up, Harry’s grip tightening at the abrupt gesture, and shoves him backwards into one of the stalls. He hitches him up against the wall and grinds forward. “Oh, fuck yes,” Harry groans.

“You wanted to be fucked against the wall,” Merlin murmurs, licking at the rivers of sweat running from Harry’s damp hair down his delicious neck.

“Get my fucking trousers off, and we can get to the fucking,” Harry snaps at him.

Merlin has to put him down for that, going to his knees without a second thought. Peeling Harry out of the tight jeans is a pain, and Harry whines at the lack of friction on his cock. Merlin makes it up to him the moment Harry’s erection springs free of his jeans, groaning because the man isn’t fucking wearing any pants and taking his hard cock into his mouth. It’s like drinking the ocean, salty and wet at the tip where he’s dripping precum, and Merlin takes in as much as he can, which is most of it. Harry swears several times, but the moment Merlin helps him step out of the jeans he hauls him up for a kiss, shoving Merlin’s trousers and pants down enough to free his cock, and then wraps his leg around Merlin’s waist, “Come on, then.”

“We don’t have- “

Harry interrupts that thought by reached around behind himself and yanking out a plug. It’s not as long as Merlin’s cock, but it’s almost as thick, and there’s a moment where Merlin thinks his knees might give out, but he catches himself. Harry drops the plug on his jeans and rolls his hips against Merlin’s, grabbing his hand and pressing it towards his hole, “I’m ready, come on.”

Merlin drops his glasses next to the plug and slides two fingers into Harry, and his knees are buckling again, because Harry’s slick inside and open from the plug. He pulls them out and grabs Harry’s waist, supporting his weight as the other man wraps both legs around him, “You’re such a fucking slut that you came here with a plug up your arse?”

He doesn’t mean for the words to come out, but it’s clear Harry enjoys them because he moans and rocks eagerly against Merlin. “Yes, I’m a slut, now please fuck me!”

Merlin lines himself up and shoves in without preamble, sinking to the root. It’s even tighter than last time, if that’s even possible, and Harry cries out, clutching at Merlin’s shoulders like he’s afraid to fall.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Merlin whispers in his ear. He’s not much of a talker and he doesn’t know where the words are coming from, but Harry responds well to them, trying and failing to press against Merlin’s cock and get him to thrust. “How is it a whore like you is still so fucking tight? You’re gagging for it, aren’t you? Took one look at me and knew you couldn’t leave until I’d stuffed you full and pounded you with my cock.”

“Yes!” Harry’s voice is higher than normal, and there are tears of frustration streaming down his cheeks. Merlin licks them off and tastes the ocean again, and he gives in and gives Harry what he wants; he pulls out until only the tip is still inside, and then slams home.

Harry howls. “So fucking good,” he pants. “Fuck me, Ian, split me open on your cock.”

Merlin falls silent and lets Harry do the talking, concentrating on holding him up as he buries himself to the hilt over and over again in the perfect, tight heat. “I’ve been thinking about this all fucking week,” Harry says, apparently dropping the thin pretence at being strangers. “Fucking love your cock, it’s fucking huge. Shit, harder, make me feel it.”

Merlin snarls and obeys. He’s vaguely aware that the bathroom door has opened and someone’s come in, but he can’t care because he’s balls deep in Harry and it’s just as good as the first time. They leave, and Harry’s chatter picks up again, “I’m such a fucking whore that I’ll let you shag me in a public loo, and you love it, don’t you? Bet I’m the best fuck you’ve had in ages.”

He is, but Harry’s enough of a cocky shit without Merlin telling him that. He opts for corkscrewing his hips instead, hitting something inside Harry that shuts him up and makes him clench hard around Merlin. Merlin aims for that spot again and again until Harry’s gasping.

“Say my name,” Merlin says, because he’s pathetic.

“Ian,” Harry says immediately, his voice breathy and thick with arousal, “Ian, fuck, Ian.” He repeats it like a chant, and it’s enough to push Merlin over the edge. He comes, his vision whiting out, riding the waves of pleasure that threaten to drag him back under every time Harry clenches around his oversensitive cock.

Eventually, he comes back to himself. Harry’s still hard, still wrapped around Merlin, and Merlin untangles him and sets Harry on the floor, going to his knees again and swallowing Harry, this time to the root. It takes a little effort, but it’s worth it when the head of Harry’s cock slides down his throat and Harry curses and grabs at Merlin’s head. He swallows once, and Harry’s gone, spilling down his throat. Merlin swallows and gets to his feet, retrieving his glasses and sliding them back on. Harry pants, leaning back against the stall wall without any apparent intention of moving to pull on his trousers.

“That’s twice now,” Merlin says. “Still saying fuck off to your dad?”

“If you’re going to interrogate me every time we have sex, I think I might stop bothering.”

“What makes you think it’s going to happen again?”

Harry fixes him with a look, “You’ve said yes twice now. I’ve never been fucked by anyone quite as satisfying as you, and I suspect the reverse is the true as well. I’m loath to give up such a gorgeous cock, and I know for a fact that you love my arse.”

“So, what? You want to shag me, and then go off on your merry way?”

“What, you want a relationship?” Harry laughs. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m not relationship material, _Ian_.”

“Oh, I’ve heard.”

Harry finally bends over, sliding himself into the skinny jeans in a way that looks effortless, the fabric slipping over his skin like water. When he straightens up, he says, “You didn’t have to say yes, you know.”

“I know.” But Merlin’s a fucking idiot. He’s irritated, and he can’t help the barb that slips past his lips, “But then, you’re a whore, and you did practically beg me for it.”

Harry’s face darkens. He spits out, “You’re right. I am a whore. And you fucked me, so what does that make you?” He picks the plug up off the floor with more dignity than Merlin thought possible and stalks from the bathroom, the door slamming behind him. Merlin stares after him, guilt flooding through his body, and then his feet are taking off without his permission.

He catches Harry outside the pub, grabbing his arm and dragging him to a halt, “Harry, wait.”

It’s raining, or near enough, the stuff coming down in thick sheets of icy sleet, and they’re both getting soaked but Merlin doesn’t care. Neither does Harry, apparently, because he stops like Merlin asks and rounds on him, “What? Come to humiliate me further? Maybe offer me some cash for getting off with me? After all, if I’m just a whore, I might as well be getting paid.”

“Harry, I’m sorry,” Merlin says.

“Fuck you, Ian,” Harry snaps.

“I _am_ ,” Merlin insists.

Harry’s hair looks even more ridiculous plastered to his face in a soggy mat, but it doesn’t make his glare any less piercing, “What do you care, anyway? It’s just a bit of sex. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’ve made that perfectly clear, thanks,” Merlin says, the dry bite of his voice somewhat ironic in the downpour. “You know what? I apologized. You don’t have to accept it, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but I hope you figure it out.” He turns and storms away through the rain. He may have had the last word, but Merlin still feels like he’s drowning. He can’t explain it, but he does know that he hates the feeling of walking away from Harry Hart. Shame it’s starting to be a bit of a habit.


	3. Building Castles in the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winds of change are starting to blow... (aka, air).

“Well done, Galahad,” Merlin says. He leans back in his chair and breathes a sigh of relief. “You cut it a little close, though,” he can’t help but chastise.

It’s been a bit awkward between him and Harry for the past month. Since that night at the pub, they’ve mostly avoided each other, until Arthur insisted that this particular mission called for Merlin’s expertise and paired them up. Merlin still hasn’t figured out how to get a video feed into the glasses, given that the audio equipment takes up pretty much the entire frame, but he has finished the design for the lighter grenade, which has temporarily appeased the king. Harry has been civil over the com link, which is all Merlin can really ask for anyway, although he can’t help but feel like there are a lot of things hanging unsaid in the air between them.

Now, though, Harry seems done with the polite exchange between handler and agent. He makes a sound that’s a bit like a groan, and Merlin suspects he’s thrown himself down into one of the plush chairs of their private plane. He’s alone, save for the pilot, so Merlin’s only mildly concerned about being outed when Harry says, “Whenever I have to run for a mission I always end up incredibly horny afterwards. Is that normal, do you think?”

“It’s probably the adrenaline,” Merlin says. “Although I’m not sure this is the most appropriate discussion topic for your handler, Agent Galahad.”

“But you’re not just a handler, are you? And the mission’s over, so as far as I’m concerned, I’m off the clock. Which makes me just Harry, and you-“

“You are aware that you are not alone and I am not out at work, correct?”

That shuts Harry up. Then he says, “Really? I didn’t know. You seemed remarkable casual about…things when we…”

The line is secure, Merlin’s office is soundproofed, empty, and the door is locked, so he finishes for Harry, “When we had sex? I’m not in denial, Harry. But I’d really rather my career not be affected by my sexuality if at all possible. Not all of us can be attracted to women.”

Harry laughs like a spring breeze, surprisingly warm where Merlin had expected him to be cold, “I’ll agree with that.”

That throws Merlin for a loop, “You’re not…?”

“Attracted to women? No. I thought that was rather clear when we discussed my father.”

“No, it was not clear. You can like men and women at the same time, Harry. And you do have a bit of a reputation.”

“I’m not precisely out either, Ian. Putting up a certain façade gets me places in life.”

The silence between them hangs in the air like cigarette smoke, and then Merlin says, “We really know fuck all about each other, don’t we?”

“An astute observation,” Harry agrees. Merlin hears rustling on the other end of the line, then a click. In the distance, beyond Harry’s soft breathing, he can almost feel the vibrations of the plane as it hums over the com link. “I’m in the bathroom,” Harry informs him.

“What? Why?”

“So I can ask you why you agreed to have sex with me and not have you panic over our pilot hearing me.”

“What, you need an ego boost?” Merlin rolls his eyes.

“Actually, no,” Harry says. “I’m well aware that my looks are one of my best qualities. No, I mean, if you were worried about your sexuality affecting your work life, you would hardly consider it practical to sleep with an agent, and while I don’t really know you very well I do think you’re predominantly a practical man. You’d have to be, to be a handler. So why agree to have sex with me? Why not push me away, or insist you were straight?”

The air feels like it’s choking Merlin, stuffing his throat up with cotton fluff and smothering him. Finally, he says, “You won’t like it.”

“I won’t?”

“No, you definitely won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t do relationships.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because I think I might be in love with you.”

The silence falls again, so much worse than last time, and Merlin wishes a fucking tornado would wipe him off the face of the earth. Or maybe knock Harry Hart out of the sky. But even as he thinks it, he feels guilty.

“You…think you’re in love with me?” Harry says slowly. “Why?”

Merlin huffs, the air leaving his lungs in one long rush, “I don’t know. I watched you, during the trials, and there was something about you that just drew me in. At the risk of making your head swell, yes, you’re bloody gorgeous, but it’s not just that. There’s this…presence when you walk into the room. It’s like the very air changes, perks up and pays attention to you.”

“It’s an act, Ian. It’s all an act. I’m really nothing special.”

“Harry, I took one look at you and fell in love.”

“That’s not love, that’s obsession. Attraction, sure, lust, sure, but it’s not love. You can’t fall in love with someone you don’t know just from looking at them.” Harry sounds certain of it.

“How would you know?” Merlin asks, although Harry’s probably right.

Harry doesn’t answer him, whether because he can’t or because he doesn’t want to Merlin isn’t sure. Instead, he says, “I’ll let you get off the line now. I’m sure you have something more important to do, and I really need to take care of this erection before we get back to headquarters.” It’s stated so bluntly that Merlin has to laugh, and Harry laughs too, “What? It’s not going to take care of itself.”

“You should be careful. You might condition yourself on accident.”

“Well, with your sexy voice in my ear, can you blame me? I’m surprised I wasn’t sporting a hard-on for the whole mission.” There’s a pause, and then Harry says, “I’m sorry, that was a bit forward.”

“I’ve had my cock up your arse twice, Harry, I don’t think ‘forward’ means much between us anymore.”

“But-“

Merlin has an excellent track record with making good decisions. He supposes Harry is the universe’s way of keeping that balanced. “Are you still wearing your suit?”

“Really?” Harry says, clearly surprised. “You’re going for the ‘what are you wearing’ routine?”

“I’m providing myself with a visual,” Merlin shoots back. “I can always get off the line.”

“I’d rather you get me off.”

Merlin rolls his eyes at the obvious joke and says, “Thought so.”

“I am still wearing the suit, by the way. Well, most of it. The jacket and waistcoat are out in the cabin somewhere.”

“Tie still on?”

“Yes.”

Merlin glances towards the door one last time, and then closes his eyes. “I want you to take it off,” he says. “Slowly.”

Merlin hears Harry pause, an unspoken question hanging in the air. They don’t do slow. Then again, is twice really often enough to form a pattern?

“Alright,” Harry says softly after a moment. “It’s off.”

Merlin hums to acknowledge that he heard, trying to order his thoughts. He’s not usually very vocal during sex, so this is a bit of a challenge for him. “Buttons too. But leave the shirt on,” he murmurs, because he really likes the idea of Harry partially clothed and desperate.

“I really don’t see how this is helping,” Harry says. “Unless you’ve forgotten where my cock is?”

Merlin chuckles, “Patience, Harry.”

“Fuck patience. There. Bloody shirt’s unbuttoned.” He’s huffing, little annoyed puffs of air, but for some reason it’s charming rather than irritating.

“Are your nipples sensitive?” Merlin hasn’t really had the chance to explore that yet. He wonders if he’s going to get the opportunity.

“A bit.”

“Pinch one between your fingers. Roll it around a bit, get it nice and hard.”

Harry’s breath hitches, and he lets out a whimpering moan. There’s the slight sound of rustling fabric, and Merlin’s smart enough to understand what it means. “Hands off your cock.”

“But Ian…” Harry whines.

“Hands off, or I get off the line.”

“I could just get myself off. I don’t need you.”

Before Merlin thinks better of it, he says, “Aye, but you like having an audience, don’t you? You’re a bit of a slut, and it’s just not the same on your own.” He hesitates when the words leave his mouth, abruptly remembering their fight after last time.

Harry doesn’t seem to take offense. Quite the opposite; he moans softly and breathes, “Yes. Not…not the same. Please, Ian.”

Merlin takes pity on him. “Unbutton your trousers, Harry. _Without_ touching your cock.”

There’s the sound of a belt being undone, dropped to the floor with a loud clank that echoes over the coms, then the snap of a button. “Done.”

“God, I wish I was there,” Merlin whispers. “I’ll bet you look gorgeous. Already on edge and I’ve hardly done a thing to you.”

“You could change that,” Harry snarks, but there’s a desperate edge to it.

“Alright. You’ve been so good, Harry, so good for me.”

The praise has the unexpected result of a moan from Harry, and it sucks all the air from Merlin’s lungs. “Take yourself out,” he whispers, afraid to break the moment. “Just push down your trousers and pants, don’t take them off.”

Harry pants quietly, clearly holding back whimpers as he finally gets a hand on his cock. “Hand loose,” Merlin instructs. “No stroking.”

This time Harry can’t hold back the whimper, and Merlin soothes him, “You’re being so good for me, Harry.”

Harry’s breath shudders gorgeously, and Merlin cock finally begins to wake up and take interest in the proceedings. He ignores it for the time being. “Do you have anything you can use as lube?” he asks, aware that doing this dry is probably going to hurt, and not in a sexy way.

“Hand soap,” Harry offers.

“Alright. Get your hands nice and slick, and then you can start stroking. Loose grip.”

Merlin lets Harry do that, crude sounds of flesh on flesh echoing in his ears, knowing that it’s not enough friction. He pictures it, Harry gripping the tiny sink with one hand, knuckles turning white, other hand fisting his flushed cock, fighting not to buck into the pressure, to defy Merlin and go faster and rougher. A tiny groan slips past Merlin’s lips, and he presses his hand to the front of his trousers, rubbing firmly.

“Christ,” Harry whispers. “Are you…?”

“Yes,” Merlin breathes. He presses a little harder.

“Christ,” Harry says again, “Fucking Christ, that’s a lovely image. You’re still all buttoned up, aren’t you? Squeezing yourself through your trousers in the middle of your office, where anyone could walk in on you.”

“My door’s locked-“

“Shush,” Harry laughs. “Don’t ruin my fantasy. And do unbutton your trousers. With what you’ve got down them, it’s a wonder they don’t cut off circulation.”

That sounds like a really fucking good idea, so Merlin does. There’s some lotion in his desk, and he fumbles for it, pouring a dollop into his palm and then wrapping his hand around his bare cock. “Fuck,” he groans softly.

“Mmm,” Harry hums appreciatively. “Wish I was there. Loved having your cock in my mouth that first night. So fucking big, I was gagging on it. Want to get on my knees and worship every inch, Ian. How many partners have you had that can take you all the way to the root, deep-throat you until you come and then swallow every drop?”

“Not…not many,” Merlin admits. The words don’t come easily, punched out of his lungs as he works at his cock. He can hear over the coms that Harry’s going faster now, and he doesn’t even mind that the other man has taken control of the situation because Merlin is matching pace with him, already desperate to come.

“But you like that idea, don’t you? Using my mouth, shutting me up with your cock, making me choke on it like a good little slut?”

“Fuck, Harry.”

“I’ll be so good for you, Ian. Gag on your cock and then beg for more.” Harry’s panting becomes sharper, and he gasps, “Shit, I’m close.”

“Come on, Harry,” Merlin murmurs. He’s on the edge too. “Come on. Want to hear you. Such a good little slut, come for me.”

“Oh!” Apparently that does it for Harry, but Merlin doesn’t have time to be amused by the other man’s surprise. He’s too busy coming over his own hand, biting down on his lip to muffle his own cry.

It takes another minute to come back down, the floaty post-orgasm haze fluttering about in Merlin’s head. When he comes back to his senses, he clears his throat, tucking himself back into his trousers. “Well.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums in agreement.

Merlin hesitates, and then asks, “Was it okay that I called you a slut?”

“If you’ll recall, I said it as well.”

“Yeah, I know, but after last time-“

“Just because I like something in bed does not mean I like it in other scenarios,” Harry says primly, but there’s no ire behind his voice. It’s softer when he murmurs, “Thank you, Ian.”

“What for?”

“I suppose for not…giving up on me.”

Merlin doesn’t have a clue what Harry’s talking about, but he pretends he does. “Anytime, Harry.”

“I’ll see you when I touch down. Perhaps you can…debrief me?”

Merlin chuckles. “Incorrigible.”

“You love it.” There’s a strange twist to the words, but Merlin can’t place his finger on what it is.

“Aye,” he says.

“We’ll talk later,” Harry says, and it sounds surprisingly like a promise. “See you soon, Merlin.”

“Likewise, Galahad.” Merlin severs the connection and stares hard at his blank computer screen. Something in his chest feels lighter than normal. Maybe it’s because, despite Harry Hart’s insistence about love, Merlin’s heart is still up there in the clouds with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things. First, I realized part of this scene sounds a bit biphobic, so to make it explicitly clear: Harry is gay. People (with the exceptions of Merlin and his deceased father) do not know that he's attracted to men. Harry flirts with women and pretends to be interested in them to maintain an illusion of being straight. The facade he refers to is not him pretending to be bi.
> 
> Second, and far less serious: in case anyone cares, "building castles in the air" references an idiom which means "creating hopes, dreams, or plans that are impossible, unrealistic, or have very little chance of succeeding."


	4. To the Ends of the Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A more solid foundation on which to build (aka, earth).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would have been so much easier if these two shits had let me write an outdoor sex scene, but no. It went in a completely different direction, so the elemental influence wasn't as strong as I would have liked.

Merlin startles at the knock on his door, then rises to unlock and pull it open. Harry gives him a small smile, “Are you busy?”

Actually, between the phone sex with Harry and the overwhelming boredom of filling out the mission report (along with the rest of the mountain of paperwork on his desk), Merlin had been halfway asleep. He shakes his head and steps back, inviting Harry into his office. But the other man remains rooted in the hall. “I was wondering if you’d like to come out with me tonight. Assuming you don’t have other matters to attend to, that is.”

Paperwork can wait. “When were you thinking?”

And Harry Hart, famed womanizer (Merlin laughs in his head just a tiny bit) and all around suave gentleman, blushes rose pink, and says, “Well…now.”

Merlin thinks about teasing him for that, but decides against it. Instead, he just grabs his coat and steps out into the hall with Harry, locking his office door behind him and following Harry to the Kingsman taxi waiting for them out front. He’s not concerned about the driver. Agents share cabs all the time, and as far as Merlin is aware, they’re not all fucking each other. Well. Maybe Tristian and Bors, but it’s not obvious enough that Merlin would bet on it.

“Where are we going?” he asks once they’re settled in and the partition is up.

“My house,” Harry says simply. His cheeks are still faintly coloured.

The weight of those two words hits Merlin like an avalanche. “I thought you said we were going out.”

Harry studies his lap, “Yes. Out of the complex.” He glances briefly at Merlin, “I wasn’t sure you’d come if I told you we were going to my house, and I’d really rather do this in private.”

“Do…what in private?” Merlin asks carefully.

Harry must dig inside himself to find the bedrock of cockiness his personality rests on, because when he responds it’s with a raised eyebrow and a dry tone. “Surely you can guess? I believe debriefing was mentioned, and while I considered your office, specifically your desk, I thought you might appreciate a real bed more.”

Oh. They sit in silence for a minute, and then Merlin says, “Harry, I don’t-“

Harry turns to face him fully, and the words crumble to dust in Merlin’s throat. Harry places one hand gently on Merlin’s knee, and Merlin’s eyes flick to the driver, but he’s not paying attention to anything but the road. Harry’s hand slips a bit higher. “I’d really like to take you home,” Harry whispers. “If you don’t want to, I can drop you off somewhere, but-“

“I’ll come,” Merlin says. He’d follow Harry anywhere, judgement be damned.

Harry’s lips twist into a smirk, and he leans close. Into Merlin’s ear, he breathes, “I’m counting on it.” He squeezes Merlin’s thigh, and Merlin closes his eyes and focuses on keeping his heart rate down. A laugh rumbles out of Harry’s throat, and he leaves Merlin alone for the rest of the ride.

When the driver drops them both off at Harry’s house, he remains completely impassive, so he either doesn’t know or doesn’t care about what they’re about to do. Merlin thinks he should be more concerned about being outed, but Harry has a habit of making his brain go a bit fuzzy, and for once he really can’t be bothered. The agent leads him inside, Merlin taking in the frankly atrocious décor as a scrappy terrier that Merlin recalls being named Mr. Pickle jumps all over Harry’s leg and demands attention. Harry scoops up the dog and lets him lick his face, cooing, “Did you miss me? Did you miss Daddy?”

“If that’s one of your kinks, I think I might have to leave,” Merlin jokes.

The pause from Harry is as heavy as a sack of rocks and long enough to be uncomfortable, and as it stretches on Merlin starts to squirm. Then Harry breaks out into a dazzling grin, “Your face was priceless. No, fortunately for you, my unresolved issues with my father did not manifest in a need for incestual role play.” He sets the dog down, and gestures towards the stairs, “Shall we?”

Merlin follows him up the stairs, stepping into the bedroom when Harry indicates it. Harry closes the door behind him, Mr. Pickle letting out a whine at being shut on the other side, and then turns to Merlin, moving in for a kiss.

Merlin neatly dodges it. Hurt and confusion flicker across Harry’s face before Merlin says pointedly, “You’ve just been kissing a dog. I’d rather not do the same.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Then I suppose you’ll have to excuse me for a moment.” He opens the other door in the bedroom and steps into the en suite bathroom. Merlin kicks off his shoes and makes himself comfortable on the bed, settling back against the pile of cushions at the headboard. Any misgivings he had about coming home with Harry are gone, because this is probably the most comfortable bed he’s ever been in.

When Harry steps back out of the bathroom, his hair somehow even fluffier, like he’s been running his fingers through it, he sits down neatly on the edge of the bed. Merlin frowns, but before he can ask, Harry says quietly, “I’d very much like to suck you off, and then preferably ride you. Are you amenable to that?”

Merlin blinks. Harry’s normally forward, but he doesn’t _ask_ for things, he takes them. He said as much to Merlin. Carefully, Merlin replies, “I think you’re being a bit optimistic about the number of times you can make me come today.”

“You’re in your early twenties and very fit,” Harry says. “I wouldn’t call it optimism.” But he doesn’t move towards Merlin. This isn’t the seduction Merlin’s used to from Harry, and it’s throwing him slightly off balance. The few feet of space between them feels cavernous.

“Alright,” Merlin finally says. “Yes. I’m…amenable.”

“Good.” Harry’s smile isn’t flirtatious; it’s genuine. He unlaces his shoes, and sets both them and his socks neatly next to the foot of the bed before he reaches for Merlin, drawing him towards the edge of the bed and going down to kneel between his thighs. He stretches up, his hand comes around to cradle the back of Merlin’s neck, and this time Merlin lets Harry pull him in for a long, slow kiss that tastes of minty toothpaste. This close, Merlin can tell that Harry hadn’t taken a post-mission shower, and something uncomfortable tugs in his chest at the thought that Harry wanted to come to him first. He pushes it away and focuses on his bedpartner; Harry smells faintly of sweat and earth from the running, and there’s dust in his hair and smears of dirt on his shoulders where he would have pressed them back against a wall. He’s solid and real and _there_.

Harry’s other hand slides into his lap, unbuttoning his trousers, and Merlin lifts his hips obligingly when Harry moves to pull them off along with his pants. He tugs off his jumper and discards it over the side of the bed, and then does the same with the button-down under it.

When Merlin is fully naked, Harry settles, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s knee and then working his way up at a glacial pace, sucking a neat line bruises into the skin. Merlin holds still even as his cock starts to fill in anticipation, the new dynamic throwing him off, unsure if he’s allowed to touch or not. He curls his hands in the bedspread to keep from reaching out.

Finally, finally, Harry reaches the crease where Merlin’s leg meets his hip. He leans back and looks up at Merlin, brown eyes flecked with glinting green like a forest being swallowed by the darkness of his pupils. Merlin’s only about half hard, but Harry leans in and presses a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, and Merlin’s blood rushes south. Harry presses more kisses along the shaft, alternating with little kitten licks teasing at his frenulum, following the vein along the underside of it. Merlin’s fists clutch more tightly at the comforter.

When Merlin is fully hard, Harry looks up again and murmurs, “You can touch.”

With that permission, Merlin cups Harry’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s red and swollen lips. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers reverently.

Harry leans into the pressure, and then ducks back down to take the head of Merlin’s cock into his mouth again. Merlin’s hand shifts to Harry’s hair, not gripping but carding gently through the soft strands. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his brogue rougher than usual. He remembers Harry’s reactions on the plane and tries, “That’s a good boy.”

Harry groans and presses deeper, taking half of Merlin’s cock in one slide, until it bumps against his soft palate. He sucks, hard, and Merlin groans. “Perfect,” he breathes. “Come on, Harry. I know you can take more than that. Be a good boy for me.” He strokes Harry like he’s petting a dog, and Harry shudders under him and obeys, relaxing his throat until he can slide the rest of Merlin’s considerable length in. He holds it there and swallows, and Merlin fights not to buck into the sensation.

“Such a good boy,” he coos instead. “Such a good little slut for me, Harry. Come on now. Suck me nice and proper, and then I’ll let you ride me like you want.”

That sparks a reaction in Harry, and he pulls off, only to dive back down again, lips stretched wide around Merlin’s thick girth, forcing it down his throat over and over again until he chokes. Merlin’s grip in his hair probably hurts, but the other option is Merlin fucking his mouth, and he’s not sure Harry could take that right now. “So good for me, Harry,” he praises. “That’s it, love, I’m close.”

When Harry scrapes his teeth carefully along the underside of Merlin’s cock, just a hint of feral sharpness against the silky wet glide of his tongue, it’s over. Merlin comes, and Harry sucks him through it, wringing out every drop he can until Merlin pushes his head back, wincing at the overstimulation. Harry licks his lips, catching a few stray droplets, and cocks his head.

Merlin presses a kiss to his forehead, because it seems like the appropriate thing to do, and says, “Perfect. You were perfect.” He pulls Harry off of his knees and into his lap. Harry’s rock-solid, his cock hard enough to drill diamonds, and he whimpers when Merlin cups the bulge in his trousers and squeezes lightly. “Let’s get you out of your clothes,” Merlin suggests. Harry helps, sliding his shirt off when Merlin unbuttons it and standing to pull down his trousers. Merlin settles back on the bed, and Harry crawls up next to him and reaches for Merlin’s soft cock.

Merlin bats his hand away, and Harry frowns, so Merlin presses a kiss to the other man’s temple and murmurs, “Give me a few minutes.” Harry doesn’t argue, just relaxes against Merlin’s side, hips twisted away to keep friction off his cock. Merlin’s a bit impressed at his self-control, especially since Harry seems to have a phenomenal lack of it during missions.

“So,” Merlin says conversationally after a minute. “No daddy kink, then, but you do have a bit of a praise kink.”

“I suppose so.”

It’s not the answer Merlin was expecting, but then, Harry isn’t his usual cocky self tonight. Merlin turns his head to look down at where Harry’s tucked himself against Merlin’s side, resting against Merlin’s chest. “Are you alright?” he asks carefully.

“I’m fine,” Harry says softly. “Just…a lot to think about.”

Suddenly Merlin’s wondering if he made the right choice. He moves to get up, “Maybe we shouldn’t be-“

Harry yanks him back down on the bed, planting himself over Merlin with a hand on either side of his head. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The weight of his gaze is like a boulder on Merlin’s chest, preventing him from moving even as Merlin logically knows he’s the stronger of the two. “Harry, I’m not sure you’re in a place where we should be having sex right now.”

Harry blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that answer, and then says gently, “I’m fine, Ian. Please believe me when I say I would very much like to have sex with you right now.”

“But-“

“Shh,” Harry leans down and presses a kiss to Merlin’s lips, effectively silencing him. “No thinking. No talking. That can wait until tomorrow.”

Against Merlin’s better judgement, he accepts that answer and jokes, “I don’t know if that’s possible for you. You’ve got quite a mouth on you in bed. At least when it’s not stuffed full of cock.”

Harry’s laugh sounds more like a purr at the back of his throat. “It’s not my fault you’ve got a gorgeous cock that just demands to be sucked.”

“Trust me, I’m not complaining.” Merlin pulls him down for another kiss, and Harry settles happily against his chest, knees bracketing Merlin’s hips. When Harry rolls his hips down, grinding his hard cock against Merlin’s soft one, Merlin’s cock starts to wake up again, and he murmurs, “Where’s the-?”

Harry doesn’t let him finish the thought, stretching out to slide open the nightstand drawer and drop a bottle of lube on the bed. He sits back, still rocking gently against Merlin to coax him to hardness.

Merlin flips them over easily and silences Harry with kisses when he goes to complain. “You’ll get to ride me,” he promises. “But we need to open you up first.”

It’s slower than the other times. Harry arches against Merlin’s fingers and sighs, but he doesn’t rush him. At one, he twists his head sideways on the pillow and breathes out, “Fuck, I love your hands.” Merlin can appreciate the sentiment. Harry’s tight and hot inside, gripping at his finger each time he pushes it in and out.

At two, Harry’s voice gets higher and he pants, “Feels so good. Oh, fuck, please.” He stretches easily, with just the tiniest bit of resistance, and Merlin has to rut himself against the bed to relieve some of the ache in his cock.

At three, Harry’s fingers curl desperately around the forearm Merlin has planted on the bed for balance, his nails digging in sharply, and he begs, “I’m ready Ian, please!” and lets out a whimper when Merlin shushes him and promises him “soon.” Merlin wraps a gentle hand around Harry’s cock, so hard it’s purpling around the head and visibly throbbing, and strokes slowly to help with the pressure.

At four, Harry actually cries, thrashing against Merlin’s grip. “Easy,” Merlin murmurs, letting go of Harry’s cock and shifting his weight so he can wipe the tears away. “Such a good boy, Harry, you’ve been so good for me.”

“Ian, please.” Harry’s voice is weak, rough as sandpaper and soft as a flower petal. “Ian, please, I need…I need…”

“I know.” Merlin pulls his fingers free and slicks his cock, then lays back on the bed. Harry slings a leg over him and grips Merlin’s cock, his fingers stroking appreciatively down the velvety-steel hardness. He hesitates, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to continue, but Merlin nods, and then Harry’s lining him up with his entrance and sinking down and _oh_.

“Fuck,” Harry gasps, dropping down hard to force the intrusion into his body, sheathing Merlin’s entire length in one go. “Oh, fuck.”

On Merlin’s end, it’s like the ground has fallen out from under him. Even with all the effort Merlin put into prepping him, Harry’s still tight, and Merlin tilts his head back and closes his eyes to fight against the intense pleasure of being buried inside him, his fingers moving to Harry’s hips without his say-so. Harry rocks experimentally and groans. “Yes,” he whispers. “ _Yes_.” And then he _moves_.

Merlin’s fingers dig into Harry’s hips, but it doesn’t matter, because Harry moves like a man possessed, rising up until only the head of Merlin’s cock is still inside him and then slamming back down. He sets a fast pace, panting at the exertion, and still manages to find breath to say all the filthy things he seems to love in bed.

“I missed this,” he snarls. “A fucking month. Nothing else is fucking big enough. You’ve fucking ruined me with your stupid cock. Oh fuck, feels so good. I want to ride you until I can’t feel my fucking legs. Want to sit down tomorrow and get hard remembering how bloody good your thick cock felt ploughing my arse. Going to be such a good slut for you, Ian, make you feel so good. Make you come inside me, fill me up like a bitch in heat.”

This should not be turning Merlin on more, making him even harder and desperate, but that’s something to worry about later. His fingers slide up, one still on Harry’s hip, the other gripping at his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex under the skin, solid as oak but pliable as willow. “You’re so good,” Merlin breathes. “Feel so fucking good, Harry.”

“Yes,” Harry hisses out. “So fucking big, Ian, come on.” His movements are harder, more desperate, and Merlin can feel Harry’s legs trembling. He shifts his own legs, planting his heels against the bed and driving his hips up to meet Harry’s on the downstroke.

Harry howls. Tips back his head and screams and Merlin feels a tiny bit bad for the neighbours but not that bad because Harry starts riding him more desperately, meeting each of his thrusts with more energy, clenching around him so tightly that Merlin sees stars. “So close,” Merlin tells him. “You’re so good Harry, I’m so close, just a little bit more, love.”

“Come on,” Harry begs him. “Need you to come, Ian, come in me, please.”

“Such a good little slut,” Merlin pants. “Such a good slut, Harry, you feel so good.” He sounds like a broken record, but it clearly doesn’t bother Harry, because he keens and comes without so much as a hand on his cock. His body clenches down hard around Merlin and drags Merlin’s second orgasm of the night from him, shaking him apart like an earthquake as he gasps out and grips Harry like a lifeline.

They both come down from the high slowly, Harry settling himself against Merlin’s chest, and Merlin doesn’t even really care about the mess smearing between them that’s sure to stick them together when they try to move. He strokes Harry’s back lightly and shifts, but Harry’s hand shoots out and grabs his hip, keeping them pressed tightly together. “Don’t…” he whispers into Merlin’s neck. “Don’t pull out yet.”

It’s an unexpected request, but it’s one Merlin can easily oblige. For a while, he listens to Harry breathe, pacing his own breaths to be in sync with him, until finally Harry pulls away, wincing as Merlin’s cock slips from his body. He stands and makes his way to the bathroom.

Merlin sits up in bed. This is it, he realizes. This is the part where Harry Hart kicks him out of bed again. Except it’s worse than the first night. The first night was at work, on neutral ground. This is Harry’s house. He brought Merlin home, shagged him (very, _very_ well if Merlin’s being honest), and this is the part where he tells Merlin to leave.

He’s about to get up and find his trousers, maybe slip away while Harry’s still in the bathroom so it feels less like being kicked out and more like…mutual parting, but then Harry walks back into the bedroom, still nude but no longer painted with semen, and presses a damp flannel into Merlin’s hand. Silently, Merlin wipes himself down. When he’s done, he debates for a moment what he’s supposed to do with the flannel, but then Harry plucks it from his hand and tosses it vaguely in the direction of the bathroom. He settles back into bed.

After a long pause, where Merlin remains frozen, Harry opens one eye and asks, “Are you going to sit there all night, or are you coming to bed?”

“You want me to stay?”

“You might as well.” Harry’s voice is already hazy, clearly halfway to sleep. Merlin hesitates a moment longer, and then he gives in and lays down next to Harry. Instantly, Harry throws an arm over Merlin’s chest and tucks himself comfortably into Merlin’s side, tangling their limbs together like tree roots. Harry Hart is a cuddler, Merlin thinks. Who would have guessed?

There’s probably a discussion they should have. Merlin is aware of that. But it’s warm in the bed and his brain is still pleasantly fuzzy from sex. They can have that conversation tomorrow. And just because he can, he presses a kiss to the top of Harry’s head, and then settles in and falls asleep.


	5. Fill the Emptiness Inside Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more to Harry than what's on the surface. Merlin thinks he might be able to fill that gap. (aka, void)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of course the one with the title that sounds like it could be a sex joke is the chapter without sex. Also not strong in the elemental sense, but in fairness this is a tricky element to do.

Merlin wakes up to a cold, unfamiliar bed and a dog licking his face. He blinks, wrinkling his nose, and props himself up on his elbow, frowning at the little terrier, who yips excitedly in his face and tries to jump on him some more.

“Down, Mr. Pickle.” Harry’s voice is sharp and commanding from his position in the doorway, and the dog listens, hopping down off the bed and curling up on a mat tucked in the corner of the room.

Harry is dressed, albeit not for work. A pair of grey sleep pants droop low on his hips and a rumpled white t-shirt stretches tight across his shoulders but hangs loose everywhere else. It reminds Merlin sharply of the fact that he is still completely naked in Harry’s bed, as well as their activities the night before, and he shifts, subconsciously tugging the comforter a little higher.

Harry catches the movement and smiles, his voice playful but not harsh when he teases, “Where is this modesty coming from? It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.” He crawls onto the bed, pinning Merlin down without touching him by strategically placing his hands on the blanket so it pulls taut across Merlin’s chest. “Good morning,” he murmurs, and leans in to press a gentle kiss to Merlin’s lips.

It’s so oddly domestic that Merlin blinks. “I’m sorry, what sort of Twilight Zone have I stepped into?”

Harry’s brow furrows as he pulls away, “I beg your pardon?”

Merlin frees his arms from the blanket trap and pushes Harry back enough that he can sit up. “Last night. This morning. What happened to ‘it’s just sex, it doesn’t mean anything?’ Why did you let me spend the night?” Harry wouldn’t talk yesterday, so Merlin thinks he’s owed some answers today.

“Oh.” Harry studies the comforter, idly tracing patterns into it with his index finger. The silence stretches between them, a chasm growing until Harry says quietly, “I did a lot of thinking about what you said.”

“What I…?”

“On the plane,” Harry clarifies. “That you think you’re in love with me.”

Oh. That. “But you don’t believe that.”

“I don’t,” Harry agrees. “The concept of love at first sight is ludicrous. But…” He pauses and licks his lips, not a flirtation, but like he’s thinking. “I do think you like me.”

Merlin frowns, “Of course I like you.” Against his better judgement, of course, but he does. He can’t seem to help it.

“You really shouldn’t. I’m abrasive, demanding, callous and dismissive.”

Merlin resists the urge to snort. Before yesterday, he might have agreed, but now he’s starting to see that there’s more going on here than meets the eye. “No, you’re not.”

Harry shakes his head in disbelief, “How can you think that? After everything I’ve done to you-“

“What, exactly, have you done to me?” Merlin knows. He was there, after all. But he wants to hear Harry say it. There’s a gap, a piece of the story he’s missing. And Merlin is just as skilled as Harry at interrogation.

The agent doesn’t even put up a fight. “I…used you,” Harry said quietly. “I knew, on New Year’s, I could tell you…wanted me. Wanted more from me. And I had sex with you knowing that I had no intention to do more than that. I dismissed you that night, and it was unbelievably cruel of me to do so, because I saw that it hurt you. And then a week later I did it again, because the sex was good and I…I suppose because I liked you. And afterwards, when you were upset, and rightfully so, I didn’t explain anything, I just snapped back at you.”

Merlin can’t think back on that night without regret, and it has very little to do with the fact that he slept with Harry. “I shouldn’t have called you a whore.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Harry agrees, “but I shouldn’t have kept instigating sex, knowing it upset you when I walked away. I just…” He sighs, “I know what people say about me. That I’m a flirt, but that I’m not relationship material. They’re…they’re not wrong.”

“Aren’t they?”

Harry swallows hard. “I won’t date women, Ian. I’m not...it wouldn’t be fair to either myself or my partner. And men...I can’t…”

“Why not? Is this about your father?”

“It’s not about my father,” Harry doesn’t quite snap it, but it’s a near thing. His voice is softer and eerily neutral when he continues, “It’s because I break everything I touch.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“Oh really?” Harry raises an eyebrow, “Aren’t the handlers always complaining that I never listen? The tech department lamenting the fact that I can’t seem to bring any of their shiny toys home in one piece?”

“That’s different.”

“I sabotage everything around me, Ian. I do it on purpose. That is why I’m not relationship material, why...this...can never work. Because I am a horrid person, a black hole that drags everyone else down with me, and sooner or later-”

“I don’t believe that.”

Harry tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth to say something, but Merlin doesn’t give him to opportunity, “You pretend to be a massive flirt, peacocking around for attention and brushing people off like they’re beneath you, but it’s an act. It’s just a mask you wear.” They’re spies. Part of Merlin’s job is to see through masks. Harry hasn’t made it easy, but Merlin finally thinks he knows what’s going on with the agent. “You push people away because you’re scared of what might happen if you don’t.” Merlin thinks about Harry’s father, homophobic bastard that he was. “You feel like you need to be alone because alone is safe.”

A laugh bubbles out of Harry’s throat, hollow and empty. “So it’s a mask, Ian. What does that matter? It’s still who I am.”

“It’s a part of you,” Merlin corrects, “but it’s not all of you, Harry.”

“It’s all that matters.”

“Not to me,” Merin says vehemently. Softer, he repeats, “Not to me.”

Harry shakes his head, a strange combination of mirth and doubt in his eyes. “How is it that you can make me feel like this?”

It’s an admission that Harry feels _something_ for Merlin, and it makes his heart leap with hope. “I don’t believe in love at first sight,” Harry continues, “but I do…I do believe that there’s something here. I’ve been cruel to you, treated you terribly because I was too busy hating myself to think about how it must have made you feel. And yet you saw past that, saw beyond the shallow image that everyone else seems to accept, and what you saw wasn’t dark and empty, but something to be cherished. You kept coming back.”

“I’ll always come back,” Merlin says. “Fuck knows I can’t stay away from you.”

“Is it enough?” Harry asks.

Merlin wants to say yes. He wants to dive in and assure Harry that they can do this. But Merlin is practical. And so he considers. “It won’t be easy,” he finally says. “We can’t...if we went public, there’s a good chance we’d both lose our jobs. We’d have to be discreet. And you’d have to _talk to me_ about what you’re feeling. You can’t keep pushing me away. I’m not…I’m not always the best at emotions, but clearly I’m a sight better than you, so...if you’re willing to open up, if you’re willing to put in the effort…”

“And what…” Harry stops himself, then takes a deep breath and asks, “And what if I open up, and you don’t like what you see?”

Impossible, Merlin thinks. “Then we figure it out,” he says.

Harry nods. He’s not looking at Merlin, staring instead at the comforter twisting between his fingers. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay?”

Harry looks up, deep brown eyes meeting Merlin’s. “Okay,” he repeats. “I’m not saying it will work out. But I’m willing to try.”

Merlin smiles. He threads his fingers through Harry’s hair (and dear god, it is even fluffier in the morning. How the hell does it keep getting fluffier?) and brings him close for a chaste kiss. From his dog bed, Mr. Pickle whines at the lack of attention, and they break apart grinning.

“I think your dog is as much of a drama queen as you are,” Merlin teases, and Mr. Pickle makes his point by rolling out of his dog bed and kicking his tiny legs in the air, yipping and lolling his tongue.

“Well,” Harry says, dragging out the word with a little quirk of his lips, “if he’s anything like me at all, you’ll be thoroughly besotted with him in no time.”

“God help me,” Merlin murmurs, but he can’t help laughing. Harry’s playful smirk turns into a full beam, and he pulls Merlin in for another kiss.


End file.
